


Truck

by seashadows



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Cats, First Meetings, Gen, Love at First Sight, Pets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 14:55:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7512551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seashadows/pseuds/seashadows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dinah had been the one to insist that he get said dog. Neither of them had ever <i>had</i> a dog, but, so she insisted, at least she had a husband and their two sons to keep her company. “You always wanted one,” she had told him last week, and hadn’t shut up about it ever since. “Come on, Theo. I see how you look at all the dogs around here. Papa never let you have any, but you’re a grown-ass adult.” </p><p>“Ass is the operative word there,” he’d said, as all the while Phil and Caleb (seven and eight, both going on three months old to judge by their behavior) ran between the Hillel tables, yelling something about fighting aliens in a forest of legs. </p><p>“Okay, well.” She skewered him with a look. “Let me put it this way. I’m not cleaning up your rotten body if you decompose in your house. At least a dog will eat it.” </p><p>“Ouch.” </p><p>Theo meets his match. Sons of Jerusalem 'verse. Or: Dr. Derensky and Mr. Truck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Truck

Theo pulled the Charger forward into a space just in front of the shelter door and let out his breath in relief. Today sucked; it was hot, he would swear the car radiator made a weird hissing noise when he moved too fast, and this particular type of gray cement building just made him sad. But on this particular Thursday afternoon, the empty parking lot told him that at least he wouldn’t be swarmed by a bunch of kids as soon as he stepped into the Lexington-Concord Community Permanent Shelter - what a name - to choose his first-ever dog. 

Dinah had been the one to insist that he get said dog. Neither of them had ever _had_ a dog, but, so she insisted, at least she had a husband and their two sons to keep her company. “You always wanted one,” she had told him last week, and hadn’t shut up about it ever since. “Come on, Theo. I see how you look at all the dogs around here. Papa never let you have any, but you’re a grown-ass adult.” 

“Ass is the operative word there,” he’d said, as all the while Phil and Caleb (seven and eight, both going on three months old to judge by their behavior) ran between the Hillel tables, yelling something about fighting aliens in a forest of legs. 

“Okay, well.” She skewered him with a look. “Let me put it this way. I’m not cleaning up your rotten body if you decompose in your house. At least a dog will eat it.” 

“Ouch.” 

Now here he was anyway, because of course he was that much of a sucker. Of course. Reflexively, Theo checked his parking (much straighter than he was, but what else was new?) before he got out and went to the door. Dinah wasn’t exactly _wrong_ ; their parents’ issues hadn’t really allowed their family the luxury of a dog, and after his experiences with the SS and their hellhounds in Buchenwald, Papa hadn’t wanted one. But now it was almost twenty years since Papa died, and being thirty-eight qualified Theo as a grown-ass adult, didn’t it? He’d get a dog if he damn well wanted to, a good one who would sleep on his bed and lick the underside of his bearded chin. 

His skin prickled with goosebumps when he stepped inside. The thermometer in his car had been holding steady at ninety or so all week; here, the air felt at least twenty-five degrees cooler. Sweet, sweet bliss. For at least an hour, he wouldn’t have to suffer the grossness of his arm hair lying pasted against his forearms. 

“Hey,” he said to the quizzical, generously-pimpled high-school-looking kid at the front desk. “I, uh, I’m here for a dog. I mean, picking one.” The air smelled like lemon cleanser, with the same pee undercurrent as the hospice center where Mama spent her final few months. Yeah, that wasn’t depressing at all. He didn’t even hear any barks to distract him from the bleakness. 

“Have you ever had a dog before?” the kid asked. 

“No,” Theo said. “I could use some help.” Even if the help came from a kid young enough to be his son - holy shit, he felt old. If he didn’t swing for the other team, he’d undoubtedly have a bunch of the little diaper-fillers by now, and he suspected a prouder dad wouldn’t have existed before or since. His stomach twisted with sudden longing. Dinah was right; if he didn’t have kids or a husband, he needed a pet. 

The kid nodded once and clicked something on the computer (probably shutting down a porn window, if Theo knew bored teenagers). “The pet rooms are that way,” he said, and pointed towards a set of double doors on the other side of the little entryway. “The cats are in one room and the dogs are in kennels on the other side of that wall, through the door on the right. You can see some windows into the first row in the hallway. If you want to see one of the dogs, let me or another volunteer know.” His voice had taken on the drone of a speech frequently recited about halfway into the second sentence. “Do you know what kind of dog you’re interested in?” 

“Not one of those little yappers,” Theo said. Then, just in case the kid liked those little yappers, he added “Just not my thing. I’m not trying to judge.” In his opinion, teacup dogs were kind of asking for people to judge the hell out of them, but whatever; that was the fault of their owners. 

“‘Kay.” His all-knowing guide into the confusing world of pets plopped back down into the swivel chair behind the desk and leaned on one elbow. “Just lemme know.” 

_Thanks a million,_ Theo thought. _Enjoy your boner_. Aloud, he said a much gentler “Enjoy your day” and went through the double doors, heart suddenly pounding, to take a look at all the friendly canine faces. 

As his luck would have it, though, the feline side of the hallway was the first area to catch his eye. 

Theo frowned. It couldn’t hurt to take a look at the cats, could it? He’d never really given any thought to the idea of having one, even though a cat probably would have satisfied his childhood pet craving without making too much extra work for Mama and Papa. Well, that was probably hypermasculinity talking, and fuck that; society didn’t own his brain. He pressed his hands against the glass of the cat room, smeared with either paw prints or nose prints, and had a look inside. “Okay, wow,” he said without thinking. “There are a _lot_ of you.” 

A brown tabby with one ear, in the process of rubbing its arched back against a scratching post, gave him a look as if to say _No duh_ and hopped up onto the shallow windowsill. It blinked slowly and then opened its mouth; a plaintive meow came faintly through the glass. Something inside Theo melted just a little. “Good, uh,” he said, sneaking a pointless look at the cat’s hidden lower half, “thing. Guy? Do they neuter all you kids?” 

Another near-silent meow. Theo smirked. “You’re no help,” he said. “I just might need to come in there and see if all the cats are as friendly as you, huh?” Yeah, he’d probably get clawed. That was what his superior strength was for; if he couldn’t lift up a cat that weighed probably a tenth of the car parts he used to make swords, then he was a horrible blacksmith. “All right, get ready. I’m coming in.” 

None of the cats said that that was what she said, but they didn’t look very impressed, either. A long white one, holding its tail high, trotted over as if to make a break for the door when Theo came in. Theo froze, but the cat stopped by his feet and licked it lips. _Well-played, you little sneak_ , he thought. “How long have you been here?” he asked. The cat flicked its tongue again and Theo squatted, then held his hand out to be sniffed. 

He took a long look around while he petted the cat. God, there had to be at least twenty cats in here, maybe fifty cats. Maybe even a hundred cats. He wasn’t experienced at counting cats, slippery little bastards as they were. Across the room, three kittens opened their mouths and squeaked at him from one cage, and an old-looking cat stared at him with great dignity from the top of a cat tree while washing its white-whiskered face. 

“Hey, little guy,” Theo said, unsure if he was greeting any cat in particular. “Hey, big guy. Lots of guys in here. Guys and girls. Oh, hey, do you all want a petting from me?” Another cat, smaller than the white one with short, shiny black fur, rubbed against his left ankle. He touched the top of its head and was rewarded when the cat rubbed the corners of its mouth against his fingers. 

Cats were _definitely_ not that bad. 

He stepped his way through the cat room, trailed on both sides by curious cats. A big brown tabby meowed at him from the right, while the small brown tabby he’d seen in the window leaped down from somewhere and appeared in front of him. “ _Meeeeeeer_ ,” it said, showing its teeth. 

“Good kitty,” Theo answered, and then with a smile, began to sing. “Fat cats, skinny cats, cats who climb on rocks. Tough cats, sissy cats, even cats with chicken pox.” Cats didn’t get chicken pox, right? Oh, well - he wasn’t going to tell the Armour Hot Dogs jingle writers that they were wrong. “Do cats like hot dogs?” Turning in a circle, he slowly surveyed the room again. Lots of cat trees in here. Lots of litter boxes, too, but those were all in the cages from what he could see. 

“Are you stinky cats?” he said. “Dogs smell. I bet you guys smell, too, and - what’s _that?_ ” Carefully, he walked through (and in some cases, over) all the cats until he’d reached the cat tree with the interesting object in question. Then - utilizing what Dee would probably term ‘utter stupidity’ - he poked it. 

The object meowed, floofed, and uncurled. Its eyes were green. 

Theo dared another poke, and was not bitten. Awesome. “What are you, huh?” he asked. “You look like an old rug.” The cat’s dark gray fur reminded him of a shag carpet he’d seen in his best friend’s basement when he was six, even though this rug was a lot softer. Silky, even. He ran his hand down the length of the cat’s body from head to butt, and with some surprise, felt the cat lift its butt up against his hand. “You want some scratches?” 

The cat opened its mouth and yawned, which Theo guessed was its version of a reply. “Holy shit,” he said, “you got some big fangs. You’re a Smilodon. Yeah, that’s right, you’re a good Smilodon. Okay!” The cat had grabbed onto his arm with both paws mid-sentence, and unless he was mistaken, had started to knead him as well. With claws. 

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” Theo declared. This was probably what Harry Potter had felt like when he stood in front of Buckbeak the Hippogriff, fully expecting to get ripped apart like his foolhardy frenemy did a few paragraphs later. “Here comes a hug!” He freed and maneuvered his hands under the cat’s armpits and then, in what he hoped was a smooth motion, scooped it up into his arms. 

The change was astounding. The cat immediately melted against his shoulder and began to purr, sinking its claws into his shirt (and flesh) in a motion he thought he remembered was called ‘kneading.’ “Jesus, you’re fat,” Theo said. “You’re a fat sack of crap. Fat sack a’ crap.” He stroked the cat’s warm back with one hand. “Are you a fat sack a’ crap? Yeah, you’re Daddy’s fat sack a’ crap, aren’t you? God, it’s like hanging on to a truck.” A cat, he suddenly realized, wouldn’t need to be taken for walkies in the middle of the day. It was undoubtedly old enough, going by its size, to be already litter-trained. And since it was sitting on the cat tree by itself, it was probably a loner, just like him. 

Fuck. He had a soft spot for loners. 

“You need a name,” he said. The cat looked up at him with bright, suspicious eyes. “Can’t call you a fat sack a’ crap on vet forms. Still look like an old rug, though.” Luckily, this one wouldn’t need vacuuming, but it did give him an idea. “Rug. How about that for a name? Rug.” 

“ _Meeeeer_ ,” said the cat. Rug it was. 

After several attempts to put Rug down, during which Rug stubbornly dug in his claws and probably pulled out a few chest hairs, Theo carried him out into the anteroom. “Hey, you can’t bring them out here,” the kid at the desk started, and then said “Holy _fuck!_ ” 

“What?” Theo said. “Did I commit a felony?” 

“No!” The kid pointed. “That one. You don’t want that one.” He got up and came over to Theo, then started to pull Rug out of his arms. Rug yowled, clearly very happy where he was. “Dude, you don’t know what you’re adopting. This guy is fucking crazy.” 

“Yeah, and?” Theo said. “So am I. And by the way, thanks for the clarification. Are you a neutered guy?” he asked Rug. “You’re probably a neutered guy.” 

The kid shook his head. “He’s been adopted by so many families and brought back,” he said. “That thing’s been here, like, a _year_. He’s scratched so many kids.” 

“I don’t have kids, and he likes me.” Theo cuddled Rug closer, and Rug tucked his head under his chin, purring. “God, listen to that motor. I don’t care if he scratches me. I’ll scratch right back. I mean, not animal abuse, but…” He trailed off and scratched Rug’s ears. “I think he loves me.” 

“He’s never loved anyone before,” said the kid, wide-eyed. For the first time, Theo noticed that he wore a name tag that said ‘Trevor.’ “Take him if you want or whatever. I’ll help with the forms. Shit, he’s never purred like that.” 

“Oh, good boy,” said Theo. “You love your daddy? Yeah, you do. You’re a good little motor.” 

Trevor moved backwards as if in a daze, staring at them both the whole time. “Yeah, just a second,” he said. “I’ll go get his forms and stuff. You get, um, a bag of food and a box carrier to take him in. He’s had his shots and stuff.” The last sentence was called from within another room. “You gotta go to the pet store for litter and a pet bed and stuff.” 

Theo leaned on one leg and smiled. “Time to show your aunt what she’s gonna run into the next time she visits,” he said, and took out his phone. It took some maneuvering, but he managed to snap a blurry photo of Rug glaring at him, and sent it to Dee with the caption _Pet time!_

His phone beeped with a reply about thirty seconds later. _What the fuck is THAT?????_

As Trevor exited the storeroom with his arms full, Theo felt his grin expand. _Well_ , he typed, _you never said it absolutely had to be a dog._

**Author's Note:**

> The 'neutered guy' thing is paraphrased from Metalocalypse. 
> 
> I can be found as godihatethisfreakingcat (coincidence - I love cats, and so does Theo) on Tumblr. If you should feel inclined to give feedback, I'll love you forever.


End file.
